


Busy

by babbley



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 02:56:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15596685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babbley/pseuds/babbley
Summary: Anne and Gilbert share a tender moment one morning before school starts. Innocent, fluff, friendly. It's before Anne of Avonlea but after Green Gables, it also works well with the 2017 series too.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Pure self-indulgence in 3...2...1...

It was still dark out, not only because of the clouds but the time, too. Yesterday Anne had left a piece of paper at her desk by mistake. It was her only one, and what was written on it was confidential. She could not bear to imagine the terror if Diana or Ruby found her musings. Musings important enough to write on paper. Before the crack of dawn, Anne completed her chores and bolted into the rain. Her dress was soaked, her shoes muddied, and as she sprinted all manners of wet leaves and grass stuck to her legs and hair.

Sticky and wet she bounded up the steps and into the schoolhouse and jiggled the handle. It was locked. Frustration overtook her, and Anne squatted on the ground. She was soaked, the bottom of her dress was in a puddle, and it was starting to get cold. Her efforts were hopeless. The paper was inside the dry building, oblivious to her peril. Closing her eyes to keep out the rain, she stayed that way for a few minutes.

Someone tapped on her shoulder. Looking up, Anne saw the concerned face of Gilbert Blythe. He was the last person she wanted to see, except for Billy.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

Anne shook her head and stood up, patting the skirt of her dress. It did nothing.

“The door is locked,” she said dumbly.

Gilbert nodded, she supposed he was glad there was an emergency. Had there been he would have jumped into action. Instead, he pulled a small metal key out of his pocket and showed it to Anne. He fit it in the lock and opened the door. He let Anne inside first, and she was grateful to get out of the rain. Gilbert was rained on, but Anne looked like she had gone swimming. She stepped to the side and wrung out her dress in the coatroom bucket, which was meant for exactly that situation.

“Why are you here, sitting so pensive in the rain?” Said Gilbert, taking off his own jacket and hanging it up.

“I could ask you the same,” said Anne, hanging up her hat. She didn’t want to reveal anything to him

Gilbert laughed. Anne turned to look at him. With a smile, he said, “no indignance intended.” He walked took a step closer to her, “I was given a spare key for this morning only.”

Stepping away, and taking long strides to her desk she asked, “Why?”

Gilbert followed her, “There’s a book of the teacher’s I’m reading, but I’m not allowed to take it home.”

Anne paused, “How are you?”

Gilbert inhaled deeply. He shrugged, “Busy.”

For once, Anne did not speak.

Gilbert continued, “Sometimes even when you’re around people, you feel lonely.”

 

“How can I help you?” Anne tugged at the end of her braids.

Gilbert looked Anne in the eyes, more than he ever had before. He swallowed hard. All at once she noticed how long his eyelashes were and how dark his eyes were. She had known what he looked like of course, but it felt like she was seeing him for the first time. Like the Gilbert she had known until then was gone, and this new Gilbert was introducing himself.

“Can I have a hug?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Anne. She shuffled in front of him and wrapped her arms around his torso.

He pulled her closer, enveloping her in his hold. For a few moments, they stayed like that, neither one speaking. Gilbert’s hands were rested on her shoulder blades, hers were on the middle of his back. If anyone walked in they would have broken up the moment without hesitation. Anne pressed her face into the collar of his shirt. For a moment she could have sworn she felt his heartbeat.

“You’re still damp,” Gilbert stifled a laugh.

Filled with dread, Anne pushed him away, “I’m so sorry.”

Gilbert looked around the room, “Don’t worry. Bash doesn’t give the best hugs or any.”

“No competition,” said Anne.

Gilbert shrugged, “you’re in first place.”

At the same time, both Anne and Gilbert found intense interest in the floor, they shuffled toward their respective seats and sat down. Anne wondered if Gilbert felt as light as she did. It was like all her troubles turned into sea foam. She wondered if the Little Mermaid felt this relieved when she dripped into the ocean, like all of her worldly troubles were behind her. She looked down at her paper, the reason for her trudging to the school so early. She read it over. In the back of her mind, she heard Gilbert flip the pages of his book.

Anne stood up. She strutted to his desk and placed down her precious paper.

“What?” asked Gilbert.

“Hide this today, read it when you get home,” said Anne. She turned around. For the rest of the day she was separated from Gilbert. During their break, Ruby called him a raven. Anne thought he was more of a bunny, but she didn’t speak up. When it was time to leave, she noticed Gilbert slipped out before he said goodbye to any of their classmates.

She wondered what he would think when he read the paper:

_Tickle my skin, summer sweet_

_Rays of gold, pinken me_

_Our eyes meet across the room_

_You’re the sun and I am blooming_

_Greenery grows at the sole our shoes_

_Clover and baby’s breath and bells of blue_

_Your smile is warm like the southern wind_

_Our spirits dance, souls kindred_

_Thank you, friend, for this solace mirage_

_You’re a lamp lit in my fog_

_Admiration with all my might_

_Thank you, my friend, Gilbert Blythe_

 


	2. Thesis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow up of part one, Gilbert and Anne talk about the poem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Works in the AWAE verse, but I like writing Gilbert more like he is in the books. Once again, pure self-indulgence in 3...2...1...

 Dark clouds continued to loom over Avonlea until the next morning when Anne was off to school on time. She wore her brown dress because other on other one was still damp, but had left her hat by the stove so it would dry off. Marilla insisted that she wear a shawl to keep extra warm because her face was starting to look sallow. Anne argued that she always looked pale, and but her efforts were fruitless, so off she set for the day. In secret, Anne did not want the shawl because she feared Gilbert might have thought she was doing something different to garner his attention. Indeed, their tender moment had raced through her imagination all night and over time the scene had organically sprouted into the tale of a lighthouse keeper who discovered her abusive, amnesiac husband was his long brother, and once he regained their memories the sunrise of their love was aglow in the cove.

She chased those thoughts out of her mind. No thoughts of Gilbert ought to mingle with love stories. First and foremost, he was her friend. Anne was deep in her thoughts when she nearly bumped into a small tree. The tree spoke. Anne halted. She turned around to see Gilbert Blythe. In her shock, she lost balance but was able to regain her footing. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him lean forwards.

“Good morning Anne,” said Gilbert.

“You as well,” said Anne, she was chagrined.

“That paper,” began Gilbert, wasting no time for Anne to collect herself, “what do you mean?”

Once again Anne found herself off-kilter. Her writing was so unclear as to confuse the subject of her poetical praise. If Ruby had read the poem she might understand the confusion, but Gilbert was the best well-read in the class after herself, and before Cole and Diana. Gilbert noticed her confusion and wisely did not speak.

               “What do you mean?” said Anne.

               Gilbert looked like he had been asked the colour of the sky, “Why are you thanking me?”

              “That should be obvious,” said Anne.

               Gilbert shrugged. He began walked ahead, his steps were slow. Anne knew how serious he was. Unfortunately, his legs were longer than hers and she had to jog to catch up. As she ran she was thankful for the shawl. The cool air was ebbing at her cheeks and nose. Once she was a step behind Gilbert turned around. His eyes were big, she noticed. Like two dark almonds during Christmastime. For the second day in a row, Anne felt like she was looking at him with a fresh perspective. Something was different from the Gilbert the day before yesterday.

               “Maybe it was a stretch since I didn’t intend to give the poem to you. My intent was to stow it away forever,” she said. Gilbert nodded. Anne continued, “Think of it as my heart’s will to you, well the old you.”

               “Is there a new me?” he asked.

               “Yes,” assured Anne, “But not a stranger. In fact, you’re more of a kindred spirit than ever.”

               “Go on,” said Gilbert.

“Your kindness, fortitude, gentleness, and fairness,” said Anne, “are why I am saying thank-you. You’ve treated me as an equal and a friend, though I can’t say I always deserve it.”

               Gilbert was quiet. Soft grass squeaked underfoot. Anne watched him look up at the grey sky, wondering what he thought was beyond the thick cloud. Little did she know he was staring at them directly. Later he would tell her that overcast days remind him of her limpid grey eyes. For now, she watched him avoid a puddle by choosing the dirt side of it, whereas she stuck to the grass.

               “We treat each other equally,” said Gilbert finally.

               “Do you think?” asked Anne.

               “Yes. Your actions are direct to me, but I reciprocate outwards,” he said.

               “Thank you for standing up for me,” said Anne, “Ferociously.”

               Gilbert nodded. He met Anne’s gaze for a moment. She hoped he would see the nuances of emotion she felt. Happiness, thankfulness, and concern.

               “Lionheart, they call me,” mused Gilbert.

               “No,” said Anne.

               “Regardless,” Gilbert ignored her protest, “I read it all night. You called me the sun, it was nice.”

               “You are as warm and essential,” she said matter of factly.

               Gilbert took a step towards her, looking at her closely. Anne felt his eyes study her face. She wondered if her freckles were the poetry of their own for a moment but quickly whisked the thought from her head. To suggest anything so romantical to Gilbert was absurd, especially when he was downtrodden. The responsibility of the heart dictated that taking advantage of weak moments was wrong, and Anne knew the horror of unwanted comments. Instead, she kept walking. There was a mumble, but she could not hear it.

               Gilbert cleared his throat, “May I hold your hand?”

               “Yes,” said Anne. His earnestness of the simple request made her want to indulge. To deny someone such a simple pleasure, so easily given, was cruel. With care, Anne grasped his hand in hers. Much like the hug yesterday, she was keenly aware of his size. Her hands were big and sturdy. In comparison, hers were as dainty as a doll’s, save for a dark scar on her thumb, a reminder of the girls at the asylum. She was glad to be holding his hand, as he was the one in need of it, but part of her wished he was on her other side.

               They walked like that for the better part of a kilometre, hardly speaking except for the Gilbert once more asking if it was okay, and Anne affirming that he was doing nothing wrong. When the school was around the bend Anne let go, she did not want to be the centre of gossip involving a romance with Gilbert Blythe. Not only because it would ensure terrible teasing, but because the innocence of the moment needed to be preserved, she thought. Anne saw it that this small gesture would need to remain pure and sweet. By his expression when she let go, a small smile, she knew Gilbert understood.

               “Thank you again for the poem,” said Gilbert.

               “You’re welcome,” said Anne.

               “And for your attention these past few days,” he said.

               “You’re a special friend of mine,” said Anne, “it’s what friends do.”

               Gilbert spoke quickly, almost as fast as Anne sometimes did, “I used to think of you as an equation to be solved,” he said, “Why I ever thought you’d have to do with arithmetic is ridiculous. Anne, you are the thesis of my imagination. Clear and bright.”

               “That’s lovely,” Anne grinned, “Truly. Now let’s get inside.” She pulled the shawl closer around her shoulders and continued on ahead of him, enraptured by his words.

               Only when she arrived at her desk did Anne register Diana’s absence. Fretted, she wondered if her bosom friend was sick or injured. Nimbly, Diana sat down next to her and looked at Anne expectantly. Anne realised that given her timing, Diana must have been a few metres behind her all the way. To her good luck, Diana mentioned nothing of it during the day, and only pried when she insisted on walking Anne home to Green Gables despite the promised rain.


End file.
